


Harbor

by JenniferNapier



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 22:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17252618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferNapier/pseuds/JenniferNapier
Summary: After a particularly rough mission, Qrow returns to a familiar place of refuge and comfort, where a dear friend awaits his return.





	Harbor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WolfintheSnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfintheSnow/gifts).



> A Cloqwork Fanfiction Piece for WolfintheSnow as part of the Ozqrow Secret Santa Exchange on Tumblr.  
> By: JenniferNapier (RemnantsRemains on Tumblr)  
> Prompt: Enjoying each others' company
> 
> Can be taken either platonically or romantically, depending on reader interpretation and preference.  
> Ties in to chronological RWBY timeline pre-Volume 1.
> 
> !!!!!Contains Volume 6 spoilers!!!

# Harbor

.

A harsh storm ravaged the west coast, battering the tall cliffs with powerful torrents of cold wind and pelting rain. It would be a drastic understatement to say it was difficult to fly in, but a lone crow’s wings pumped vigorously through the skies anyway as a thin film of frost and ice blossomed, cracked, abandoned, and then blossomed again on each feather, determined to weigh him down and stall his flight.

But he could not rest, because there was nothing beneath him but a vast dark churning ocean that sprayed water in all directions to clash against the frozen rain in a chilly war of opposing brethren. The cliff side of the Kingdom of Vale was hidden in the obscured distance, appearing in a blink only at the strike of the stark white lightning against the blackness of the night. But soon even the lightning exhausted itself, and the rumbling of thunder was all that was left to reign the skies as if it was a giant Grimm that had battled the fiery light and tragically won.

Qrow had no clue where he was going, or if he was even oriented upright anymore. He doubted that he would be able to tell the difference between the raging roughness and freezing temperatures of the sky or that of the sea-- or whether he had already crossed that threshold or not. He could only hope that he would eventually crash into something solid (if he was lucky, solid ground) and then he’d attempt to wait out the storm.

Then, a green glow ebbed through it all. The tower of Beacon Academy. A lighthouse guiding a lone sailor home. Its emerald beacon seared through the darkness to give him guidance and direction in a time of hopelessness and need. He gave every last reserve of energy to obey its beckoning call.

When he thought his wings would snap clean off his shoulders from the atmospheric torment, he kept beating them. When he felt like his lungs would burst if he gasped for more air, he kept breathing. When he felt his eyes closing in a dire tired defeat, he kept them open. He did anything and everything, no matter how excruciating or impossible to reach that light.

With a sudden and violent crashing of glass, he did it. Tumbling in human form upon solid ground, Qrow Branwen came to a sliding halt on his side like discarded roadkill, trailing rain water and behind him across the sleek aventurine floor of Ozpin’s office. He hardly had enough breath and energy to groan, but a feeble one rasped out of him anyway. Though its intention had been a sigh of relief, it instantly turned into a series of hoarse and ragged coughing.

He made it. He made it, and that was all that mattered.

Gravity encouraged the huntsman to settle flat on his back even though he didn’t dare make any movements of his own, every lean muscle burning with a critical ache. _“Gods! **Qrow!?**_ What the _Dust_ are you--?” He heard the shrill scolding of a certain middle-aged blonde’s voice above the roaring of the outdoor storm that had been rudely invited into the office, but he paid Glynda no attention, instead catching his breath and staring weakly at the silhouette of the massive gears above him, with the powerful source of the green glow of the tower behind them. Those gears were home. Following similar mechanical patterns of Harbinger’s transformative hilt and Ozpin’s own cane, their familiarity brought a weak and lopsided smile to his face. 

Shards and fragments of glass rose around him to sparkle in the emerald light from above, accompanied by glinting water droplets. If he’d been able to, he would have deliriously batted at the pretty things like a drunken kitten, but unfortunately, the opportunity passed. Once risen, they all surged away from him and back to their rightful place, and the large glass wall was seamlessly repaired in a surge of Glynda’s purple-hued telekinesis.

She continued to berate and bitch, but Qrow couldn’t hear her anymore, only able to blink heavily and increase the stretch of his goofy grin as a man stepped into view above him. “Welcome back, Qrow.” The snow-haired man smiled warmly.

“...Hey, Oz.” Qrow breathed throatily before coughing again through his smoke-tainted airways, willing to drift off into a merciful sleep. But he couldn’t, yet. With a revitalized urgency, he forced one exhausted arm to his chest, weakly fumbling in his inner jacket pocket to drag out an ornate emerald necklace and pitifully hold it up as if he were lifting the weight of a mountain. “...I got it.”

He couldn’t see it in the darkness of the angelic silhouette, but Ozpin’s smile wavered before pressing into one of appreciative and apologetic sadness. “Good work, Qrow.” He murmured quietly, but as earnestly as possible. He stooped to take the pendant from him, if only to relieve his arm of the burden. Looking at the jewelry briefly, Ozpin caressed it and then tucked it into his own breast pocket, bundling the chain after the gem. “Do you know… what I had to do…. to bring that thing… back to you?” Qrow wheezed as his arm harshly collapsed onto the floor beside him.

While the reminder made the headmaster downhearted, he understood that was not its purpose. Qrow simply liked to joke in the form of complaints. Shaking his head, he established kindly, “I’m more appreciative of what you had to do to bring yourself back to me. You are my greatest asset, Qrow.” Contrary to the huntsman’s belief, and contrary to what was technically truthful, Qrow was one of the most valuable possessions of the wizard’s. “Even if you have a habit of making a rather large mess from time to time.”

“Love you too, old man.” Qrow retorted in a deflated exhaustion, finally slipping out of consciousness as Glynda stepped over to scowl down at him beside Ozpin, who smiled with a guilty blush at being called out for what he truly meant. “His aura is entirely depleted.” The huntress muttered in report with her scroll tucked against her breast. Ozpin didn’t need to see the screen to know she was telling the truth. “Let’s get him comfortable.” The man proposed with a small sigh, keeping his spirits raised even if the weight of centuries rested upon them, as always.

~~~~

When Qrow next woke, it was with a slow series of reluctant blinks and a groggy jumble of growls and exhalations. At first he didn’t remember much of anything, let alone last night, but the turbulence of the storm quickly soared into the forefront of his mind, followed by what preceded it, and his heart rate skyrocketed. The fact that his arms were bound tightly against his body didn’t ease him and he reacted in a spurt of fear before recalling the rest of his memories about the night, including Ozpin.

Panting, he stilled himself and glanced down at the thick red blanket bundled around him, before slowly figuring out how to bring his arms up out of it as he looked around the glass-encased office and the large gears deeply ticking above the large room. He sat up on the dark green couch that he was lying upon and shifted himself to look behind it towards Oz’s desk, which was empty.

Relaxing fully, he sank down into the furniture again to take the solitary time to rub his face and sigh out his anxieties before resting his hands on his stomach and gazing at the gears for a few minutes of calmness and peace. It was so nice to feel those things again. It was nice to be back. 

_Home._

The elevator door opened with a gentle sliding sound and Qrow smiled with a dulled brightness as he turned his head on the armrest of the couch to watch Ozpin walk into the office. _That glorious bastard._ He was holding two mugs of steaming hot cocoa, as expected, with a subtle smile on his gently aged face that radiated with the warmth of the sun, which also glinted off the lenses of his reading glasses as well as the muted shine to his white hair. “Good morning.” The headmaster murmured brightly, as if it was any other pleasant morning. As if the fate of the world wasn’t in their hands.

But Oz’s hands were steady as a rock as he extended one mug to Qrow, who took it with a grateful (if slightly abashed) smirk, feeling the heat of the delicate ceramic around his calloused fingers. He could already detect the underlying minty scent of the chocolate. Their shared favorite flavor.

“So, what happened to you?” Ozpin asked, standing before him contentedly, but nodding towards Qrow’s legs. The huntsman followed his gaze and hesitantly opened the blanket around him to see that one of his pant legs was rolled up, his knee and shin trapped in a bloodied bandage and brace. “Oh…. _that?”_ He mumbled tiredly, not drunkenly. Ozpin could tell the difference.

“Hit on the wrong lady again?” The headmaster smiled lightly before taking a sip of his own hot cocoa to allow Qrow to tilt his head in agreement and admit jokingly; “Guess I’ll never learn my lesson.” But Ozpin remained quiet and patient as he met Qrow’s sparkling gaze with a serious one of his own, and Qrow’s smile faded. “...I had some trouble. But it was nothing I couldn’t handle.” He explained reluctantly.

“Your aura was broken long before that storm. Before you broke through my window.” Ozpin sighed, having a pretty good idea of what a bad circumstance the man had unfortunately found himself in. Qrow shifted to sit up again, balancing his cocoa in one hand as he drew the blanket over his leg again to hide it from view. “It was, but then it regenerated, and then it broke again when I crashed through your window.” He corrected bitterly, upset that Ozpin had noticed his injury. The last thing he wanted to make that man feel was guilt. He’d had enough of that over the many many years he had lead the forces of good in this war. “I’ll be fine, Oz. It’ll heal in no time.”

“Was it Cinder?” Ozin asked, taking a seat at a nearby armchair to continue to casually sip his cocoa and listen to the report. “...No. Marcus Black.” Qrow answered, unable to keep the memories at bay. But he pulled himself to sit even more upright and eased his bandaged leg over the edge of the cushions, wincing as the movement caused the damaged nerves to tingle.

“I found the letters he’d been sending to her. She was recruiting him to hunt down Amber. He caught me snooping around-- it was my own carelessness. After he finally got through my aura, he didn’t get much further. The house caught on fire, somehow. Eventually I managed to burn through my ropes, and I flew out. I don’t know what happened to Marcus, or his kid. They were both gone when I finally got out of there.”

With a slight pause, he continued with the obvious bad news, “The letters were destroyed. I should have taken a picture, but I promise you, I _did_ see--” He was silenced by his name, spoken firmly. “Qrow.” The huntsman brought his gaze up to Ozpin’s with a cautious obedience and shame. But the headmaster’s tone was kind. “Do you really doubt that I believe you?”

Qrow took his words to heart, nodding once and allowing his disappointment in himself to be washed away with a deep sip from his mug. “Let’s see how your leg is doing.” Oz set his own half finished mug down on a coffee (more like cocoa) table and then moved over to kneel directly in front of where Qrow sat. There was no arguing with him, though Qrow would have liked to, and so he simply remained where he was, rigidly allowing the man to draw his damp pants leg up further past his knee and then start removing the dressing to the wound. “Relax.” Qrow obeyed the command and let the guilty tension in his body loosen.

After a moment, he sighed and then huffed in weary humor, “I’m glad he didn’t find that amulet in my pocket.” Ozpin continued unwinding the bandage and setting aside the dressing to examine his friend’s wound. The truth was that that amulet was nothing. It was another decoy to keep Qrow busy, to keep his hopes up. To make him feel like they were making progress and accomplishing something. An excuse to see him again. That silly old antique necklace had nothing to do with defeating Salem. Nothing did.

“...I’m glad he didn’t start with your _arms.”_ The headmaster glanced up with a pointed look, wishing that Qrow would get his priorities straight without having to tell him that… none of what he did for him mattered at all. The daring missions. The time spent away from his family. He didn’t need to do any of it. None of it mattered in the grand scheme of things.

“Yeah, that too.” Qrow chuckled, meeting his gaze before watching him finish drying the sweat and pus from the gouges and punctures along his leg. “I need to go warn Amber.” He murmured, realizing his next plan out loud. But Ozpin was not so eager to move on with the mission, assuring him, “She’ll be alright.”

“If Marcus is after her, she--”

“She is a _maiden,_ Qrow. She can handle an assassin.” Ozpin cut him off firmly but gently, grabbing fresh gauze and bandages before starting to wind them up the huntsman’s leg again. Respectfully, Qrow argued in the softest tone he could muster.“You haven’t seen what I have, this guy is....” He trailed off, having trouble describing his talents.

“I do not doubt your judgement. But I believe that you doubt mine.” Ozpin finished with the bandage and gave a small squeeze of Qrow’s ankle below his wounds with another deeper pointed look. A gentle ‘shut up.’ “Maidens are the most powerful people in Remnant, Qrow. Amber knows how to look after herself. She can wait a few more days while you rest.” He stood up after tugging the man’s pant leg down again and throwing the edge of the blanket over his lap. He lingered for a moment longer, looking him over with great thought. “You are important, Qrow. Please do not forget that.”

“I’m no maiden.” Qrow rasped with a tilt of his head, still not completely listening to the headmaster’s words and focusing solely on what he believed to matter. Their cause.

Ozpin was starting to get upset, and he did not get upset easily. He shook his head with a paternal patience. “Doesn’t matter what you are or are not. You are valuable.”

“...I failed.” Qrow finished quietly, not eager to argue, but unable to be swayed in his thinking. 

“You made it _home._ That is **_not_** a failure!” Oz’s voice actually snapped with a spark of anger for once, which it hadn’t done in a very, very long time, and surely not in the lifetime nor the body that Qrow had seen him in. Sighing and brushing one hand through his hair, Oz sat back down in the armchair and eased into a calmer frame of mind. “Qrow. Their powers will remain if they die. The war will continue, whether you’re here to fight in it, or not. The world will not be lost if we lose one of them. But If we lose you… If _**I**_ lose you...”

Now, Qrow was listening. The snap in his colleague’s tone had truly woken him up, and he realized that every word Ozpin was saying was not soaked in the compassion of a boss, or even a friend, but soaked in the compassion of something more.

“You have the bittersweet fortune of only living _once,_ Qrow. I want you to have a good, _one,_ life.”

Qrow had never seen a genuine pain behind the headmaster’s eyes before, and he knew that there was no way he could fathom the depths of it. He knew that when he died, he would not reincarnate like the ‘old man’ would. He knew that Oz would be devastated by the loss, but that he would keep moving forward and leave the memories of this life behind-- not because he wanted to, but because he was cursed to.

Ozpin knew that it was all futile. The hope that he gave these young students was futile. He did it for their own souls’ health, in a twisted way. He liked to think that he lied to them because he was sparing them from sharing in his eternal pain, but sometimes he doubted the morality of his own intentions. It was selfish to pull Qrow away from his family. To keep calling on him and asking him to run around the world for him. But some of his guilt was assuaged because he had tried to turn Qrow’s help away, in times like this one. He truly did want him to live his life to the fullest. To spend time with his nieces. To find somebody to settle down with, even if that was not in his nature. To be happy and carefree, not plagued by responsibility. Not caught up in his mess.

But Qrow was his most valuable asset, and he was a special person to the headmaster, and he did not want to give him up or let him go. He had so little time with the man. He wanted every second of it. After growing close to hundreds of dear friends, and losing them all, he had never developed such a bond with someone as he had with Qrow and he had worked very hard over the past fifteen years to try his very best not to get attached. Because he knew he would lose him, and he knew it would hurt more than it’d hurt in a very long time. Qrow was a precious soul. Good-hearted but terribly damaged and eternally youthful and naive.

Ozpin was broken out of his broken train of thought by Qrow’s sudden voice, and he blinked behind his spectacles and took in a breath, finding that some emotion had balled up in his throat. “Hey. Cheer up.”

He leaned back in his chair and ran his thumb across his cheek to ensure that nothing had leaked from his eyes before reaching for his mug and washing down the lump in his throat with the creamy cocoa. “I’m fine, Qrow.”

“Then why are you sad?” Qrow retorted with a hint of something chipper in his voice, attempting to bring him up out of his sea of thoughts like he was reeling him up those cliffs with a fishing rod. “I was just recalling the past.” Ozpin shook his head to banish the conversation, adding in a final word before taking a sip of his cocoa. “Now are you going to start valuing yourself more or not?”

With a contemplative nod, Qrow vowed, “Yeah. I will.” and added in a faint smile to top it off. “Good.” Ozpin accepted his promise and relaxed back into his chair, with Qrow following suit and relaxing back onto the couch.

After a few thoughtful moments, Ozpin smiled again. “Remember when you would start fights in the courtyard just to get my attention?” His eyes glinted in delighted reminiscent humor as he glanced back to Qrow, awaiting his recollection. The huntsman only scoffed and drew a hand up to rub his temple, protesting, “I never did that.”

“Yes you did. And then I told you that you didn't have to get in trouble to come see me in my office. You could drop by anytime, for any reason.” Ozpin retained his warm smile, doing his best to hide the pain of the memory behind it, knowing it would one day, all too soon, disappear in the vast filing cabinet of countless other fond memories.

Qrow was quiet for a moment, but he couldn’t stop a grin from spreading on his face, yielding, “Yeah. That blew my mind.” Their chuckles both echoed in the high-ceilings of the room, mingling with the invisible steam and scent of their non alcoholic drinks. That was nice too. “Bet you regret tellin’ me that, huh?” Qrow finished his worn laughter, gesturing to the now-repaired window. It was not the first time that it had been repaired.

An affectionate hum resonated from the headmaster’s throat and he gazed at Qrow’s smile as if he could preserve it forever in his memory. “Not at all.” They locked eyes again for a moment, a long drawn-out moment where crimson met golden brown, and neither had any intention of breaking the visual contact for what felt like an eternity all in its own.

But finally, Ozpin gave the last somber smile and stood from his armchair “Get some good rest.” He wished, patting the man’s bony shoulder with another affectionate squeeze. In a brief but certain decision, he stooped down and plant a kiss in the man’s dark skyward hair, not lingering for more than a second before straightening up and stepping away. But Qrow’s hand caught his own and held it to his shoulder, keeping him there. After a moment of living with the simple touch in the form of gentle anchorage, Qrow turned to rest his lips against the thick emerald fabric of Oz’s sleeve, and then let him go with a pat on his knuckles and a dull murmur of “Thank you.” as if no sentimental moment had happened between them.

Ozpin hid his smile and felt a warmth spread through his aching heart. “...Love you too, bird boy.”


End file.
